


Every Breath You Take

by keep_me_alone



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter Marauders - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Child Abuse, Child Death, Gay Subtext, Horror, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Murder, Nightmares, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Serial Killers, that's gonna turn overtly gay at some point lmao, there might also be lowkey easter egg memes because that's just who I am now I guess, there's also gonna be lots of OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: Kids are dying at Hogwarts. There are no suspects, no leads, and no one knows what to do. 16 year old Will Graham is called upon to help solve the case, but the effects of these murders on an already fragile mind can only lead to more suffering.Hannibal/Harry Potter AUMarauders era sans Voldemort





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is gonna be triggery as heck this chapter has child abuse and child death, idk if I'm going to update triggers as I go, I'm lazy and also bad at it, tags of the main work will definitely be updated though. This is just the prologue to get things set up, but there's actual chapters to come I promise <3

Will Graham had enjoyed three peaceful, exquisite years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before the murders started. A thirteen-year-old boy had been found strangled to death in the Forbidden Forest. Detectives were stumped. After a lengthy, useless investigation, they tentatively concluded that the death was the result of a quarrel between two students. A boy, named simply Hagrid, was blamed for the murder. The lack of evidence was startling. It was almost completely circumstantial, but the ministry’s hands were tied. He was expelled. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was left to assure students that the danger had passed and all was well.

All was not well. The next murder was several months later, nearing the end of Will’s fourth year. Because it was so close to summer holidays, the authorities allowed them to finish the year to avoid mass panic, but Will knew. Dumbledore was forced to announce the closure of the school at the end of term feast. Will was witness to students openly crying at the tables, students embracing as they left for what they all assumed would be the last time. Though he looked, Will could find no trace of his friend Hannibal Lecter after he’d slipped out of the Great Hall.

The lead weight that had been slowly sinking into Will’s stomach all year solidified. He went back home, spent the hot, oppressive summer avoiding his father and his unpredictable rages. He worked odd hours, as many as he could pick up at a local McDonalds. He didn’t have many close friends, but he went to parties and crashed on couches and generally just tried not to go home. He told himself that this was his life now, tried not to think about Hogwarts or Hannibal because he wouldn’t see either again. The days began to blur together. As things stood, he had no idea what was going on in the wizarding world, and he tried his hardest to keep it that way.

Will was shocked in early August when a small, brown owl flew through his open window with a letter. It was from Hogwarts, inviting him back for his fifth year. He didn’t care about the danger. Will jumped at the chance, deciding he’d figure out what was going on when he got there.

It had been an uneasy revelation, once back at school, to find that the school had more or less been coerced into reopening. The summer had brought a new string of murders. All exclusively wizard children. All under the age of eleven. As soon as the letters had been sent out, the murders had tapered off. Not stopped. Two more people died that year. It wasn’t entirely clear whether they’d been murdered by the Scholarship Slayer, as the Daily Prophet had dubbed him, but they were attributed to him nonetheless.

When Will’s sixth year began, the Ministry decided to send in a team of Aurors to sort things out. They were members of an elite sqaud, who excelled in both Muggle and magical investigations, led by Detective Jack Crawford. The year would be interesting at the very least, he was sure.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hannibal,” Will turned over, mumbling the name again. He was whimpering now, burying his face in his pillow. Lucius, a light sleeper, was already sitting up in bed. He shook the boy next to him awake.

“Isaac.” The boy in question wiggled until his head poked out of his cocoon of blankets. His dark, tousled hair fell in his eyes.

“Lu, it’s like three o’clock.”

“I need you to go find Hannibal. He’s patrolling tonight.” Lucius replied, swinging his legs off the bed.

“You do it,” Lucius gave him an icy look, and Isaac gave in. Though grumbling, he still got up, pulled on a shirt. He left, but Lucius didn’t move, just waited in the thick, dark silence. Will was still talking in his sleep, beyond Hannibal’s name though, most of it was indecipherable. Lucius didn’t wake him. He wasn’t going to either. He was going to do exactly what Hannibal had told him last week, the first time this had happened. Let him sleep. Fetch Hannibal if he was out. Keep Graham calm.

Lucius didn’t like being told what to do, particularly not by other students, but there was something about Hannibal, his steady, intense gaze. That boy was going somewhere, and Lucius intended to go with him.

Will woke up like a man surfacing from a deep lake, an unintentional dive; thrashing and gasping for air as he lurched up. Lucius sighed irritably, putting a hand on his shoulder, just as Hannibal darted into the room. Hannibal sat on Will’s bed, holding him tightly.

“Leave us, please.” He said in his curious accent. And from him, it wasn’t really a request. Lucius shrugged and did as he was told, leaving with other boys who had awoken. Hannibal didn’t watch them go, his eyes were only on Will’s face as he gripped it between his hands.

Will’s head was foggy. It was hard to place himself in the context of the world.

“Will?” His voice was low and calm.

“Hannibal?” Will murmured back, in his stupor, neglecting to use his surname, as Hannibal deliberately neglected his.

“Tell me about your dream.”

“It’s happening again,” Will whispered, his voice cracking. “The girl. Her eyes.” He closed his own eyes as a shudder washed over him. Hannibal put a hand on Will’s back, anchoring him.

“We have to go speak with Agent Crawford,” Hannibal said, slowly moving away from Will.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Will mumbled, curling in on himself. Hannibal didn’t speak, just watched somewhat impassively as the muscles of Will’s back contracted and expanded through his thin, sweat soaked shirt. “I don’t want to bother him,” Will croaked finally.

“You were right last time,” Hannibal reminded him. “He needs to know.” Will shivered again as he tossed off his bedcovers. Hannibal found him a bathrobe, helped him into it. Will teetered for a moment as he stood, and Hannibal put a protective hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

The pair went through the common room, followed by gazes both curious and hostile. Will felt their eyes keenly, and hunched under the scrutiny, but if Hannibal felt similarly, he showed no sign of it. The corridor just beyond the common room was lit with magical torches to help students find their way back, but as they ascended to the castle proper, the darkness pressed in around them, only interrupted by the dim circle of light cast by Hannibal’s wand.  They walked quickly, Will almost stumbling after him on occasion. They walked to Dumbledore’s office without speaking. The portraits rustled in their frames as they walked by. Their shoes were loud on the old wooden floors. It felt as though they were trespassing, and Will was grateful for Hannibal’s presence. It wasn’t technically against the rules to be out at night if one of you was a Prefect. They reached a dead end, and Will looked around curiously, wondering if they’d gotten lost.

“Cattywampus,” Hannibal said, the word sounding exceedingly odd in his cultured voice. The stone gargoyle slid away, revealing a marble staircase that twisted upwards. It acted as an escalator, ferrying them up to the office, sometimes slowly, sometimes dizzyingly fast, so that Will was disoriented when they stopped.

Somehow, Dumbledore was waiting for them. Three mugs of hot chocolate sat steaming on his desk. He wore a thickly padded robe, elaborately embroidered with Hogwarts colours.

“Ah, hello,” he said, rising to greet them. “Hannibal, Mr. Graham, have a seat.” They all sat. Will frowned into his mug. Thich steam rose up around his face, and he did really feel a bit better for it.

“Good evening, Headmaster,” Hannibal said. Will’s hello was a muttered comment that he himself didn’t quite catch.

“What brings you both to my office on this fine night?” Dumbledore asked, sipping his drink. When he replied, Hannibal looked directly at the mine, while Will’s gaze wandered around the room, landing on everything else.

“Will had a dream.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore replied, knowingly, “not a pleasant one, I gather?” Will’s eyes flicked up then away again.

“No.” He replied.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” Dumbledore asked kindly. Will glared up at him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t quite name. Correctly interpreting his look, Hannibal took over.

“We were hoping to speak with Jack Crawford, actually,” he said somewhat apologetically. Dumbledore looked at him keenly.

“For what reason, may I ask?”

“It’s about the dead girl,” Will’s voice was startlingly harsh.

“Very well,” Dumbledore replied gravely. He stood and murmured to a portrait, who immediately disappeared. He then conjured more chairs and hot chocolate. And then they waited.

Jack Crawford was an imposing man, and his appearance immediately leant importance to the meeting. Will had begun to feel out of place, like his skin wasn’t on quite right. Along with Jack, was a young woman with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, who smiled at him as she entered. A lively river to counter Jack’s stone. Alana Bloom’s job as a healer often involved putting people at ease. She was very good at it, and yet, Will did not feel entirely reassured.

Jack stood almost behind Dumbledore, his stance wide, arms crossed. Alana took a seat beside Will so that he was sandwiched between her and Hannibal.

“So,” Jack said, deep voice filling the small room, “tell me why you’ve dragged me out of bed at three A.M.” Dumbledore half looked over his shoulder at the other man, his expression significant, but veiled. Will didn’t reply.

“Will?” Hannibal prompted him. Will gritted his teeth, unclenched his jaw with effort.

“I had a dream,” he muttered tersely, more to the floor than anyone in the room.

He expected Jack to laugh at him,  but all he said was “Ok,” in his rich, sonorous voice.

“He’s killed another student. She’s in one of the towers. Astronomy I think.”

“What else?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“If I may?” Hannibal interrupted, drawing attention away from Will for the moment. “The murder last week, Will had seen that in a dream as well. I would suggest you take this seriously.” He looked steadily at Jack.

“Thank you, Mr. Lecter, I assure you, we are taking this _very seriously.”_ His gaze switched back to Will. “If we find a body, we’ll let you know. Is that everything then?” His gaze was uncomfortably direct. Alana shot Jack a look that he either didn’t catch, or deliberately ignored. Hannibal saw it though.

“Her eyes,” Will murmured, “he’s taken them.” He felt almost as though in a trance.

Alana spoke up, “You don’t have to be any more involved in this than you’re comfortable with, Mr. Graham.”

“Will,” he corrected her.

“Actually,” Jack cut in, “I think that if we take you back to the scene, your memory might be jogged. “Your wellbeing is a priority, but it is not my first priority.”

“It is _my_ first priority, detective,” Dumbledore interrupted coolly.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I work for the Ministry, and not for you,” Jack replied smoothly. Dumbledore smiled benignly.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but you’ll be hard pressed to find support at my school without me.”

“Is it your intention for more children to be murdered?” Jack demanded, the tension in the room risingly palpably.

“Not at all,” Dumbledore replied, still calm, “merely that we do not trample other students in our attempt to catch the murderer. Now, if you’ve no more questions, I believe these boys should be in bed.”

“We’re done here,” Jack said. Hannibal stood, and Will followed suit. The drinks still sat on the desk, untouched but for Dumbledore’s.

“Come along, Will.” Hannibal said, once they were out of the office, “I have a sleeping draught prepared for just this occasion.


End file.
